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Pretty Girls Don't Take Hallucinogenic Substances, They Are

Pretty girls don't take hallucinogenic substances, they are, Pretty girls are like ether clouds inflating and deflating male egos, Sometimes they give you a real cocaine high, Making you feel like a millionaire executive of General Motors, Or they can give you a bummer a trip and send you into the slums of Chicago and New York City without your American Express or Visa, Being approached by an unfriendly slum dweller, Pretty girls don't take hallucinogenic substances, they are, Wearing skin-tight pants and heavy makeup, Never mentioning their children or social disease, Always saying nice things at the right time, Pretty girls never need protection, they are always protected by Pretty boys, walking with hands in their pockets and talking About boy's things, like sex and politics, or football and Baseball, and never about love, Pretty girls always teach boys about love, The pleasures and the fulfillments of love as they open up Their blouses and their legs, Pretty girls don't take hallucinogenic substances, they are, They are like short-action barbiturates or a good puff of a potent Hashish mixed with opium, They are like the lysergic acid diethylamide, though shorter lasting, Making you see rainbow colors and cosmic visions of the other world, The world of pure sensory awareness that pretty boys don't have time for Because they have to stay pretty, Pretty girls are like goddesses and muses awakening the boys' minds To art, poetry and music for a short duration of a sexual intercourse, Pretty girls don't take hallucinogenic substances, they are, They are the centerfolds, the playmates, the actresses, the girl-next-door Types, knocking on your window in a sexy negligee, Pretty girls are mannequins and marionettes posing in pretty clothes, Pretty girls are everything you want, except real, And when their time is over, they are put back into their little doll boxes, Making pretty boys look for other pretty girls, But their time too will come, like a bottle of whiskey running empty Pretty girls are exhaustible and played out, And in the end, they are never enough... But there is nothing like a beautiful woman.

It Is Love Still, There Is No Other...

i accompany you to a walli know this wall fully wellit walled me since i was small,

and then i fall in love with youand you feel the same wall despite the openness of the port of the city where our love boat is dockeddespite the songs of seagullsdespite the softness of my hands cupping your breasts

you ask me to explain about this walland so i am taking you therefor you to see

the wall has become thicker and higherwalling me since ages thenand it stares at me

asking, if i have learned about love at all? if i have really love you? if i really love myselfdespite the blindness that the wall is giving meall my life

the wall is teasing me in front of youi am ashamed

but i do not give up and hand all my lifewithout a fight to this wall

and i look at youand i tell the wall your name

'here is my saviorhave pity, she does not know a wallshe has not lived there onceshe does not know your nameshe cannot feel yourlonelinessshe will dieshe does not know a fightagainst the wall'

and then there is silencelike an ocean's trench

the wall opens a doorsome tears are left on the stairs

'it is love still, there is no other' the windsings to the highest cliffon that mountain ofdeath.

Maybe Not Today But When That Medication Fades

I use to feel so bad about it.I use to get so mad and doubt it.When conversations turned to age.And who had looks they thought would stay.

I use to feel so bad about it.I use to feel so mad and doubt it! When conversations turned to age.And who had looks they thought would stay!

Right now, I'm a little proactive than the rest.

Right now, When I walk outside I'm there to exercise...With a steadied pacing of determined steps.

And right now chronologically, Nobody's getting younger.And even those stunning....Will see a Sunset, On their youthfulness.

And an aging seems to creep up on the 'stunning ones'.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.They wish to run through life as if it's nothing BUT fun.Maybe another day they will wish they didn't...When that medication fades.Putting off tomorrow what today should be done! Maybe not today but when that medication fades.

And they will someday gratefully pray.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.

I use to feel so bad about it.I use to get so mad and doubt it.When conversations turned to age.And who had looks they thought would stay.

And an aging seems to creep up on the 'stunning ones'.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.They wish to run through life as if it's nothing BUT fun.To leave everything around them undone!

And they will someday gratefully pray.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.And they will someday rest and not have hourly played! Maybe not today but when that medication fades.And they will learn to disobey doesn't really pay.

To wake up in resentment with time gone and spent! !

Maybe not today but when that medication fades.And they will learn one day to disobey doesn't pay.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.Maybe not today but when that medication fades.

To wake up in resentment with time gone and spent! ! And this is a waste nobody has to witness! But...Maybe not today but when that medication fades.But...Maybe not today but when that medication fades.But...Maybe not today but when that medication fades.

I don't cry

i don't cryit's just not mebut today i cried so heavilyi watched a movie that brought it all backi guess i just got overwhelmed you see i don't let people see that sidecuz they will use it agaisnt you to get what they wanti've cried so much in the past 2 days i don't know why i never cry in front of people i know i just don't like to anymorei'm sick of crying cuz i'm stressed

He Is Still There On The Cross

Kneeling with hands outstretch in submissionMy heart bleeds in sorrow and painYou are still there on the crossAnd all because of me

Because it is thereI have been so stubbornNever heard you callingGently knocking on my doorBut i was so busy, i have to hurry

The fun, the laughter..oh, i was so busyI don't have the time to prayA single thank you, forgive me and i love youWords so dear to you, i did not know

I am at your feet, bowing my headIn reverence to my SaviorMy Lord of all, my RedeemerYou always wanted to live in my heartIn spite of, you are willing to be there againYou wanted to be still there.on the Cross for me..

If It Don't Take Two

It takes two to tangoAnd two lips to seal a kissBut a flame and a candleWon't burn on a night like thisIf it don't take two It takes two to go one wayAnd two winds to be strong enoughBut you can't sail on a still dayLike two ships on a sea of loveIf it don't take two

Noah knew what he had to doOoh oh yeahHe sent us out in the world walkin' two by twoOh...

If it don't take twoIf it don't take twoIf it don't take twoAnd if I'm not with youNo it ain't worth goin' throughIf it don't take two

It takes two hearts with one beatAnd it takes two to say I doBut the champagne won't taste sweet And the dream just won't come trueIf it don't take two

Learning To Distinguish Respect, Love And Lust

you must know how to distinguish respectfrom love and lust, it is like this way

when both of you are dressedthere will always be respect

and when both of you begin to talkand share an intimacy like holding hands

and caressing faces and closing your eyesand making hints between here and there

when like a poem you are still at the stageof groping for images and metaphors

you are still at the stage of lovein the process of an eye contact and slight rubbingof hands and hips and sides and sensing the smell

of a scent and telling that person that there is thiscuteness and loveliness on a certain surface

but then beware when both of you start to undressin a dimly lit room where the windows are closedwhere the curtains are left hanging when their ribbonsare let loose when the door is locked when there is nothingbut nudity and fullness of desire

in here you do not ask for any permission anymoreyou do not ask for a glass of water or for a slice of breadboth of you are thirsty and hungry

on this stage of lust, you are cannibals and savages, throwing away all the lessons that gentleness taught us: you throw away your clothers, your underwearsanywhere, and they all fall in different corners

then you start eating each other, every skin is licked, every scent is tasted, every thing is bittenin all wanton greed, you want to consume every self that youclaim you own.

you all give up what you are.after such feelings as respect, and love and lust, these two things come last.

giving and taking. but for me it is more of the giving.i call it satiation. because love and sex, is nothing but thegiving of self and taking nothing in return.

Don't Take It Personal

I feel you there, Waiting for me.Anticipating something I will say...To excite your mind.Or put you to sleep instead.

And each time I compose, I regard it as a blessing to do so.There are others who think of this...As an artform they can quickly dismiss.However...There is much more to this, Than the reading of lines...For rhyme and how those rhymes might fit.Or the prose of it and if it makes sense.

I practice the 'science of an artform'.And it is going to change.Just like all of nature does.

But nothing can describe how these 'messages' begin.A poet lets it flow.Others throw together pieces and bits...Hoping someone reads it with an understanding, In their minds that lingers and sits.You know...Like some who study for a quiz.And 'think' they've got all the right answers?

Some submit their writings just for 'ratings'As if to satisfy an ego.And the greatest of those who do what they do...Do it to let it go! Look at Picasso's work.Or read anything from Beck! Haiku...?

'Two birds nestle in one nest.Eggs yoke the heavens.But none are white or fried.'

I...On the other hand, Feel extremely blessed and pleased...God has awarded me this gift, As a form of therapy.And using this 'method' to release my thoughts, To free them for others who are unsuspecting...When I'm done with one revelation, I am on to another one.

So if anyone anticipates what I have to say...In the way I say it.Don't take it personal.I've already done that!

~Two birds nestle in one nest.Eggs yoke the heavens.But none are white or fried.~

*That makes absolutely no sense! *

Perhaps not to you.But neither does this statement to me...'Let us make man in 'our' image.'

If You Don't Take The Risk, Jump The Abyss Like A Firefly

If you don't take the risk, jump the abyss like a firefly between two polarities, how are you ever going to release your potential as the stem cell of a bridge of lightfrom one hemisphere of your brain of starmud to the other side of your shining? Whenever there are two eyes it's crucial that you make a third. And if you haven't got the courage to jump from your artificial paradise without knowing whether you've got a parachute on or not, go ask the dandelions gone to seed how to take a fall like the free radical of a kiss on the breeze, touch life lightly as if you were feeling the weave of the silk mist rising like someone's last breath off the morning lake or ask the seasoned helicopter pilots of the dragonflies and maple keys about doing double wheelies like dna helices when you've driven way past the end of the road like Thelma and Louiseand your animation's been suspended trying to cling to the wind like a rafter of air you can hang from like the larva of a caterpillar repelling down a Dutch elm on a thread of fate you've got to pull like a rip cord if you want to be a skydiver instead of a half-baked butterflyalways on the run from base-jumping spiderson a strafing run of balsa wood gliders that never got off the ground.

If you don't jump into this life like Basho's frog into the pond of the world. Splash. At the end of time when your life flashes before your eyes like an implosion going supernova, just before you drown in your own tears, you're going to realize that all along you were an estranged embryo that committed suicide in the womb by making a noose of your mother's umbilical cord.How wide does the sky have to be before you'll fly? Or the sea, to swim? You want to know the flightplan and the wingspan of the wind before you decide if you're going to ride it or not, dig your spurs into the storm like white lightning into the heart of a brahma bull or run before it like a rodeo clown who wanted to be a matador.

All my life I've run into cosmic matchbooks with a solar flare for bucolating back on themselves like ingrown hairs festering they're not the galaxiesthey once aspired to with the candlepower of a single illuminated insight without mirrorsthat was enough of a wavelength to surf for light yearsand would have carried them all the way therelike Hero to Leander across the Hellespont, if they'd only been creatively self-destructiveor counter-intuitively absurd enoughto trust the road born with their own feet to walk itso all your crutches don't have to do it for you.

How could any of your planets be habitable if they're still hanging like a mobile of green apples on a skeletal bough in autumn long after the leaves have flown? Cowardice always did have the worst sense of timingand an alibi like a sin of omission it didn't commit against itself like a moralistic etch-a-sketch or the tabla rasaof a travel journal that never got any further than the page it wasn't written on like a tidal pool cluttered with relics of how dangerous it can be to set sailon the great night sea of awareness without even so much as a petal of the moon for a lifeboat.

Falling isn't for petty people. Go ask the waterbirds descending into their reflections ascending from the deep, or light being twisted like a lock of hair around the finger of any black holewith the gravitational eyes to point you out like Icarus re-entering the atmosphere, a white feather of fear going up in flames, a meteor with a biological impact on change.

For to-day young Alexis--young Alexis Pointdextre Is betrothed to Aline--to Aline Sangazure, And that pride of his sex is--of his sex is to be next her At the feast on the green--on the green, oh, be sure!

Ring forth, ye bells etc. (Exeunt the men into house.)

(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

RECITATIVE

MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?The village rings with seasonable joy, Because the young and amiable Alexis, Heir to the great Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, Is plighted to Aline, the only daughter Of Annabella, Lady Sangazure.You, you alone are sad and out of spirits; What is the reason? Speak, my daughter, speak!

CONST. Oh, mother, do not ask! If my complexion From red to white should change in quick succession, And then from white to red, oh, take no notice! If my poor limbs should tremble with emotion, Pay no attention, mother--it is nothing! If long and deep-drawn sighs I chance to utter, Oh, heed them not, their cause must ne'er be known!

Mrs. Partlet motions to Chorus to leave her with Constance. Exeunt ladies of Chorus.

ARIA--CONSTANCE

When he is here,I sigh with pleasure-- When he is gone,I sigh with grief. My hopeless fearNo soul can measure-- His love alone Can give my aching heart relief!

When he is cold,I weep for sorrow-- When he is kind,I weep for joy. My grief untold Knows no to-morrow-- My woe can findNo hope, no solace, no alloy!

MRS. P. Come, tell me all about it! Do not fear--I, too, have loved; but that was long ago! Who is the object of your young affections?CONST. Hush, mother! He is here! (Looking off)

Enter Dr. Daly. He is pensive and does not see them

MRS. P. (amazed) Our reverend vicar!CONST. Oh, pity me, my heart is almost broken!MRS. P. My child, be comforted. To such an unionI shall not offer any opposition.Take him--he's yours! May you and he be happy!CONST. But, mother dear, he is not yours to give!MRS. P. That's true, indeed!CONST. He might object!MRS. P. He might.But come--take heart--I'll probe him on the subject. Be comforted--leave this affair to me. (They withdraw.)

RECITATIVE--DR. DALY

The air is charged with amatory numbers-- Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays. Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbersThe aching memory of the old, old days?

BALLAD

Time was when Love and I were well acquainted. Time was when we walked ever hand in hand. A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted, None better-loved than I in all the land! Time was, when maidens of the noblest station, Forsaking even military men, Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration-- Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!

Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled; Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear; Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled; And when I coughed all thought the end was near!I had no care--no jealous doubts hung o'er me-- For I was loved beyond all other men. Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me-- Ah me, I was a pale young curate them!

MRS. P. Good day, reverend sir. DR. D. Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you. Andyour little daughter, Constance! Why, she is quite a littlewoman, I declare! CONST. (aside) Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him! MRS. P. Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and asgood a girl as ever stepped. (Aside to Dr. Daly) Ah, sir, I'mafraid I shall soon lose her! DR. D. (aside to Mrs. Partlet) Dear me, you pain me verymuch. Is she delicate? MRS. P. Oh no, sir--I don't mean that--but young girls lookto get married. DR. D. Oh, I take you. To be sure. But there's plenty of time for that. Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four orfive years hence. But when the time does come, I shall have muchpleasure in marrying her myself-- CONST. (aside) Oh, mother! DR. D. To some strapping young fellow in her own rank oflife. CONST. (in tears) He does not love me! MRS. P. I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you'llexcuse the liberty), that you have never married. DR. D. (aside) Be still, my fluttering heart! MRS. P. A clergyman's wife does so much good in a village. Besides that, you are not as young as you were, and before verylong you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after yourlittle comforts. DR. D. Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say. I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer mydeclining days. Time was when it might have been; but I haveleft it too long--I am an old fogy, now, am I not, my dear? (toConstance)--a very old fogy, indeed. Ha! ha! No, Mrs. Partlet,my mind is quite made up. I shall live and die a solitary oldbachelor. CONST. Oh, mother, mother! (Sobs on Mrs. Partlet's bosom) MRS. P. Come, come, dear one, don't fret. At a morefitting time we will try again--we will try again. (Exeunt Mrs. Partlet and Constance.)

DR. D. (looking after them) Poor little girl! I'm afraidshe has something on her mind. She is rather comely. Time waswhen this old heart would have throbbed in double-time at thesight of such a fairy form! But tush! I am puling! Here comesthe young Alexis with his proud and happy father. Let me drythis tell-tale tear!

Enter Sir Marmaduke and Alexis

RECITATIVE

DR. D. Sir Marmaduke--my dear young friend, Alexis-- On this most happy, most auspicious plighting-- Permit me as a true old friend to tender My best, my very best congratulations!SIR M. Sir, you are most obleeging!ALEXIS. Dr. Daly My dear old tutor, and my valued pastor,I thank you from the bottom of my heart! (Spoken through music)DR. D. May fortune bless you! may the middle distance Of your young life be pleasant as the foreground--The joyous foreground! and, when you have reached it,May that which now is the far-off horizon (But which will then become the middle distance), In fruitful promise be exceeded only By that which will have opened, in the meantime, Into a new and glorious horizon!SIR M. Dear Sir, that is an excellent example Of an old school of stately compliment To which I have, through life, been much addicted.Will you obleege me with a copy of it, In clerkly manuscript, that I myselfMay use it on appropriate occasions?DR. D. Sir, you shall have a fairly-written copy Ere Sol has sunk into his western slumbers! (Exit Dr. Daly)

SIR M. (to Alexis, who is in a reverie) Come, come, my son--your fiancee will be here in five minutes. Rouse yourselfto receive her. ALEXIS. Oh rapture! SIR M. Yes, you are a fortunate young fellow, and I willnot disguise from you that this union with the House of Sangazurerealizes my fondest wishes. Aline is rich, and she comes of asufficiently old family, for she is the seven thousand andthirty-seventh in direct descent from Helen of Troy. True, therewas a blot on the escutcheon of that lady--that affair withParis--but where is the family, other than my own, in which thereis no flaw? You are a lucky fellow, sir--a very lucky fellow! ALEXIS. Father, I am welling over with limpid joy! Nosicklying taint of sorrow overlies the lucid lake of liquid love,upon which, hand in hand, Aline and I are to float into eternity! SIR M. Alexis, I desire that of your love for this younglady you do not speak so openly. You are always singing balladsin praise of her beauty, and you expect the very menials who waitbehind your chair to chorus your ecstasies. It is not delicate. ALEXIS. Father, a man who loves as I love-- SIR M. Pooh pooh, sir! fifty years ago I madly loved yourfuture mother-in-law, the Lady Sangazure, and I have reason tobelieve that she returned my love. But were we guilty of theindelicacy of publicly rushing into each other's arms,exclaiming--

which seems to be the modern fashion of love-making? No! it was"Madam, I trust you are in the enjoyment of good health"--"Sir,you are vastly polite, I protest I am mighty well"--and so forth. Much more delicate--much more respectful. But see--Alineapproaches--let us retire, that she may compose herself for theinteresting ceremony in which she is to play so important a part. (Exeunt Sir Marmaduke and Alexis.)

(Enter Aline on terrace, preceded by Chorus of Girls.)

CHORUS OF GIRLS

With heart and with voice Let us welcome this mating: To the youth of her choice, With a heart palpitating, Comes the lovely Aline!

May their love never cloy!May their bliss be unbounded! With a halo of joyMay their lives be surrounded! Heaven bless our Aline!

RECITATIVE--ALINE.

My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting And as you wish me every earthly joy,I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!

ARIA--ALINE.

Oh, happy young heart! Comes thy young lord a-wooing With joy in his eyes, And pride in his breast--Make much of thy prize, For he is the best That ever came a-suing. Yet--yet we must part, Young heart! Yet--yet we must part!

Oh, merry young heart, Bright are the days of thy wooing!But happier farThe days untried--No sorrow can mar, When love has tiedThe knot there's no undoing. Then, never to part, Young heart! Then, never to part!

Enter Lady Sangazure

RECITATIVE--LADY S.

My child, I join in these congratulations: Heed not the tear that dims this aged eye! Old memories crowd upon me. Though I sorrow, 'Tis for myself, Aline, and not for thee!

Enter Alexis, preceded by Chorus of Men

CHORUS OF MEN AND WOMEN

With heart and with voice Let us welcome this mating; To the maid of his choice, With a heart palpitating, Comes Alexis, the brave!.

(Sir Marmaduke enters. Lady Sangazure and he exhibit signs of strong emotion at the sight of each other which they endeavor to repress. Alexis and Aline rush into each other's arms.)

LADY S. Sir, I thank you most politely For your grateful courtesee; Compliment more true and knightly Never yet was paid to me! Chivalry is an ingredient Sadly lacking in our land-- Sir, I am your most obedient, Most obedient to command!

(Aside and with great vehemence) Wild with adoration! Mad with fascination! To indulge my lamentationNo occasion do I miss! Goaded to distraction By maddening inaction,I find some satisfaction In apostophe like this: "Marmaduke immortal, "Marmaduke divine, "Take me to thy portal, "Loved one, oh be mine!"

(Aloud with much ceremony) Chivalry is an ingredient Sadly lacking in our land; Sir, I am your most obedient, Most obedient to command!

(During this the Notary has entered, with marriage contract.)

RECITATIVE--NOTARY

All is prepared for sealing and for signing,The contract has been drafted as agreed; Approach the table, oh, ye lovers pining, With hand and seal come execute the deed!

(Alexis and Aline advance and sign, Alexis supported by Sir Marmaduke, Aline by her Mother.)

CHORUS

See they sign, without a quiver, it-- Then to seal proceed. They deliver it--they deliver it As their Act and Deed!ALEXIS. I deliver it--I deliver it As my Act and Deed!.ALINE. I deliver it--I deliver it. As my Act and Deed!

CHORUS. With heart and with voice Let us welcome this mating; Leave them here to rejoice, With true love palpitating, Alexis the brave, And the lovely Aline! (Exeunt all but Alexis and Aline.)

ALEXIS. At last we are alone! My darling, you are nowirrevocably betrothed to me. Are you not very, very happy? ALINE. Oh, Alexis, can you doubt it? Do I not love youbeyond all on earth, and am I not beloved in return? Is not truelove, faithfully given and faithfully returned, the source ofevery earthly joy? ALEXIS. Of that there can be no doubt. Oh, that the worldcould be persuaded of the truth of that maxim! Oh, that theworld would break down the artificial barriers of rank, wealth,education, age, beauty, habits, taste, and temper, and recognizethe glorious principle, that in marriage alone is to be found thepanacea for every ill! ALINE. Continue to preach that sweet doctrine, and you willsucceed, oh, evangel of true happiness! ALEXIS. I hope so, but as yet the cause progresses butslowly. Still I have made some converts to the principle, thatmen and women should be coupled in matrimony without distinctionof rank. I have lectured on the subject at Mechanics'Institutes, and the mechanics were unanimous in favour of myviews. I have preached in workhouses, beershops, and LunaticAsylums, and I have been received with enthusiasm. I haveaddressed navvies on the advantages that would accrue to them ifthey married wealthy ladies of rank, and not a navvy dissented! ALINE. Noble fellows! And yet there are those who holdthat the uneducated classes are not open to argument! And whatdo the countesses say? ALEXIS. Why, at present, it can't be denied, thearistocracy hold aloof. ALINE. Ah, the working man is the true Intelligence afterall! ALEXIS. He is a noble creature when he is quite sober. Yes, Aline, true happiness comes of true love, and true loveshould be independent of external influences. It should liveupon itself and by itself--in itself love should live for lovealone!

BALLAD--ALEXIS

Love feeds on many kinds of food, I know, Some love for rank, some for duty: Some give their hearts away for empty show, And others for youth and beauty. To love for money all the world is prone: Some love themselves, and live all lonely:Give me the love that loves for love alone--I love that love--I love it only!

What man for any other joy can thirst, Whose loving wife adores him duly? Want, misery, and care may do their worst, If loving woman loves you truly. A lover's thoughts are ever with his own-- None truly loved is ever lonely:Give me the love that loves for love alone--I love that love--I love it only!

ALINE. Oh, Alexis, those are noble principles! ALEXIS. Yes, Aline, and I am going to take a desperate stepin support of them. Have you ever heard of the firm of J. W.Wells & Co., the old-established Family Sorcerers in St. MaryAxe? ALINE. I have seen their advertisement. ALEXIS. They have invented a philtre, which, if report maybe believed, is simply infallible. I intend to distribute itthrough the village, and within half-an-hour of my doing so therewill not be an adult in the place who will not have learnt thesecret of pure and lasting happiness. What do you say to that? ALINE. Well, dear, of course a filter is a very usefulthing in a house; but still I don't quite see that it is the sortof thing that places its possessor on the very pinnacle ofearthly joy. ALEXIS. Aline, you misunderstand me. I didn't say afilter--I said a philtre. ALINE (alarmed). You don't mean a love-potion? ALEXIS. On the contrary--I do mean a love potion. ALINE. Oh, Alexis! I don't think it would be right. Idon't indeed. And then--a real magician! Oh, it would bedownright wicked. ALEXIS. Aline, is it, or is it not, a laudable object tosteep the whole village up to its lips in love, and to couplethem in matrimony without distinction of age, rank, or fortune? ALINE. Unquestionably, but-- ALEXIS. Then unpleasant as it must be to have recourse tosupernatural aid, I must nevertheless pocket my aversion, indeference to the great and good end I have in view. (Calling)Hercules.

(Enter a Page from tent)

PAGE. Yes, sir. ALEXIS. Is Mr. Wells there? PAGE. He's in the tent, sir--refreshing. ALEXIS. Ask him to be so good as to step this way. PAGE. Yes, sir. (Exit Page) ALINE. Oh, but, Alexis! A real Sorcerer! Oh, I shall befrightened to death! ALEXIS. I trust my Aline will not yield to fear while thestrong right arm of her Alexis is here to protect her. ALINE. It's nonsense, dear, to talk of your protecting mewith your strong right arm, in face of the fact that this FamilySorcerer could change me into a guinea-pig before you could turnround. ALEXIS. He could change you into a guinea-pig, no doubt,but it is most unlikely that he would take such a liberty. It'sa most respectable firm, and I am sure he would never be guiltyof so untradesmanlike an act.

(Enter Mr. Wells from tent)

WELLS. Good day, sir. (Aline much terrified.) ALEXIS. Good day--I believe you are a Sorcerer. WELLS. Yes, sir, we practice Necromancy in all itsbranches. We've a choice assortment of wishing-caps,divining-rods, amulets, charms, and counter-charms. We can castyou a nativity at a low figure, and we have a horoscope atthree-and-six that we can guarantee. Our Abudah chests, eachcontaining a patent Hag who comes out and prophesies disasters,with spring complete, are strongly recommended. Our Aladdinlamps are very chaste, and our Prophetic Tablets, foretellingeverything--from a change of Ministry down to a rise inUnified--are much enquired for. Our penny Curse--one of thecheapest things in the trade--is considered infallible. We havesome very superior Blessings, too, but they're very little askedfor. We've only sold one since Christmas--to a gentleman whobought it to send to his mother-in-law--but it turned out that hewas afflicted in the head, and it's been returned on our hands. But our sale of penny Curses, especially on Saturday nights, istremendous. We can't turn 'em out fast enough.

SONG--MR. WELLS

Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells,I'm a dealer in magic and spells, In blessings and curses And ever-filled purses, In prophecies, witches, and knells. If you want a proud foe to "make tracks"-- If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax--You've but to look in On the resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

We've a first-class assortment of magic; And for raising a posthumous shade With effects that are comic or tragic,There's no cheaper house in the trade.Love-philtre--we've quantities of it; And for knowledge if any one burns, We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet Who brings us unbounded returns:

For he can prophesy With a wink of his eye, Peep with security Into futurity, Sum up your history, Clear up a mystery, Humour proclivity For a nativity--for a nativity; With mirrors so magical, Tetrapods tragical, Bogies spectacular, Answers oracular, Facts astronomical, Solemn or comical, And, if you want it, he Makes a reduction on taking a quantity! Oh!

If any one anything lacks, He'll find it all ready in stacks, If he'll only look in On the resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

He can raise you hosts Of ghosts, And that without reflectors; And creepy things With wings, And gaunt and grisly spectres. He can fill you crowds Of shrouds, And horrify you vastly; He can rack your brains With chains, And gibberings grim and ghastly.

And then, if you plan it, he Changes organity, With an urbanity, Full of Satanity, Vexes humanity With an inanity Fatal to vanity-- Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!

Barring tautology, In demonology, 'Lectro-biology, Mystic nosology, Spirit philology, High-class astrology, Such is his knowledge, he Isn't the man to require an apology!

Oh! My name is John Wellington Wells,I'm a dealer in magic and spells, In blessings and curses And ever-filled purses, In prophecies, witches, and knells.

If any one anything lacks, He'll find it all ready in stacks, If he'll only look in On the resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

ALEXIS. I have sent for you to consult you on a veryimportant matter. I believe you advertise a Patent Oxy-HydrogenLove-at-first-sight Philtre? WELLS. Sir, it is our leading article. (Producing aphial.) ALEXIS. Now I want to know if you can confidently guaranteeit as possessing all the qualities you claim for it in youradvertisement? WELLS. Sir, we are not in the habit of puffing our goods. Ours is an old-established house with a large family connection,and every assurance held out in the advertisement is fullyrealized. (Hurt) ALINE. (aside) Oh, Alexis, don't offend him! He'll changeus into something dreadful--I know he will! ALEXIS. I am anxious from purely philanthropical motives todistribute this philtre, secretly, among the inhabitants of thisvillage. I shall of course require a quantity. How do you sellit? WELLS. In buying a quantity, sir, we should strongly advise your taking it in the wood, and drawing it off as you happen towant it. We have it in four-and-a-half and nine galloncasks--also in pipes and hogsheads for laying down, and we deduct10 per cent from prompt cash. ALEXIS. I should mention that I am a Member of the Army and Navy Stores. WELLS. In that case we deduct 25 percent. ALEXIS. Aline, the villagers will assemble to carouse in a few minutes. Go and fetch the tea-pot. ALINE. But, Alexis-- ALEXIS. My dear, you must obey me, if you please. Go andfetch the teapot. ALINE (going). I'm sure Dr. Daly would disapprove of it! (Exit Aline.) ALEXIS. And how soon does it take effect? WELLS. In twelve hours. Whoever drinks of it loses consciousness for that period, and on waking falls in love, as amatter of course, with the first lady he meets who has alsotasted it, and his affection is at once returned. One trial willprove the fact.

Enter Aline with large tea-pot

ALEXIS. Good: then, Mr. Wells, I shall feel obliged if youwill at once pour as much philtre into this teapot as willsuffice to affect the whole village. ALINE. But bless me, Alexis, many of the villagers aremarried people! WELLS. Madam, this philtre is compounded on the strictestprinciples. On married people it has no effect whatever. Butare you quite sure that you have nerve enough to carry youthrough the fearful ordeal? ALEXIS. In the good cause I fear nothing. WELLS. Very good, then, we will proceed at once to theIncantation.The stage grows dark.

ALEXIS (aside). Hark, they assemble, These fiends of the night!ALINE (aside). Oh Alexis, I tremble, Seek safety in flight!

ARIA - ALINE

Let us fly to a far-off land, Where peace and plenty dwell-- Where the sigh of the silver strand Is echoed in every shell To the joy that land will give, On the wings of Love we'll fly; In innocence, there to live-- In innocence there to die!

CHORUS OF SPIRITS.

Too late--too late It may not be! That happy fate Is not for (me/thee)!

ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. W.

Too late--too late, That may not be! That happy fate, Is not for thee!

WELLS (pouring phial into tea-pot--flash) Number One!CHORUS It is done!WELLS (same business) Number Two! (flash)CHORUS One too few!WELLS Number Three! (flash)CHORUS Set us free! Set us free-our work is done Ha! ha! ha! Set us free--our course is run! Ha! ha! ha!

ALINE AND ALEXIS (aside)

Let us fly to a far-off land, Where peace and plenty dwell-- Where the sigh of the silver strand Is echoed in every shell.

Be happy all--the feast is spread before ye; Fear nothing, but enjoy yourselves, I pray! Eat, aye, and drink--be merry, I implore ye, For once let thoughtless Folly rule the day.

TEA-CUP BRINDISI

Eat, drink, and be gay, Banish all worry and sorrow, Laugh gaily to-day, Weep, if you're sorry, to-morrow! Come, pass the cup around--I will go bail for the liquor; It's strong, I'll be bound, For it was brewed by the vicar!

CHORUS.

None so knowing as he At brewing a jorum of tea, Ha! ha! A pretty stiff jorum of tea.

TRIO--WELLS, ALINE, and ALEXIS. (aside)

See--see--they drink-- All thoughts unheeding,The tea-cups clink, They are exceeding! Their hearts will melt In half-an-hour-- Then will be feltThe potions power!

(During this verse Constance has brought a small tea-pot, kettle, caddy, and cosy to Dr. Daly. He makes tea scientifically.)

BRINDISI, 2nd Verse--DR. DALY (with the tea-pot)

Pain, trouble, and care, Misery, heart-ache, and worry, Quick, out of your lair! Get you gone in a hurry! Toil, sorrow, and plot, Fly away quicker and quicker-- Three spoons in the pot-- That is the brew of your vicar!

CHORUS

None so cunning as he At brewing a jorum of tea, Ha! ha! A pretty stiff jorum of tea!

Cydilla Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk, It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.

Damon We both are old, And if we may have peaceful days are blessed; Few hours of bouyancy will come to break The sure withdrawal from us of life's flood.

Cydilla True, true, youth looks a great way off! To think It wonce was age did lie quite out of sight!

Damon Not many days have been so beautiful As yesterday, Cydilla; yet one was; And I with thee broke tranced on its fine spell; Thou dost remember? Yes? but not with tears, Ah, not with tears, Cydilla, pray, oh, pray!

Cydilla Pardon me, Damon, 'Tis many years since thou hast touched thereon; And something stirs about thee - Such air of eagerness as was thine when I was more foolish than in my life, I hope To ever have been at another time.

Damon Pooh! foolish? - thou wast then so very wise That, often having seen thee foolish since, Wonder has made me faint that thou shouldst err.

Cydilla Nay, then I erred, dear Damon; and remorse Was not so slow to find me as thou deemst.

First, thou must know that oftentimes I rise, - Not heeding or not finding sleep, of watching Afraid no longer to be prodigal, - And gaze upon the beauty of the night. Quiet hours, while dawn absorbs the waning stars, Are like cold water sipped between our cups Washing the jaded palate till it taste The wine again. Ere the sun rose, I sat Within my garden porch; my lamp was left Burning beside my bed, though it would be Broad day before I should return upstairs. I let it burn, willing to waste some oil Rather than to disturb my tranquil mood; But, as the Fates determined, it was seen. - Suddenly, running round the dovecote, came A young man naked, breathless, through the dawn, Florid with haste and wine; it was Hipparchus. Yes, there he stood before me panting, rubbing His heated flesh which felt the cold at once. When he had breath enough, he begged me straight To put the lamp out; and himself and done it Ere I was on the stair. Flung all along my bed, his gasping shook it When I at length could sit down by his side: 'What cause, young sir, brings you here in this plight At such an hour?' He shuddered, sighed and rolled My blanket round him; then came a gush of words: 'The first of causes, Damon, namely Love, Eldest and least resigned and most unblushing Of all the turbulent impulsive gods. A quarter of an hour scarce has flown Since lovely arms clung round me, and my head Asleep lay nested in a woman's hair; My cheek still bears print of its ample coils.' Athwart its burning flush he drew my fingers And their tips felt it might be as he said. 'Oh I have had a night, a night, a night! Had Paris so much bliss? And oh! was Helen's kiss To be compared with those I tasted? Which but for me had all been wasted On a bald man, a fat man, a gross man, a beast To scare the best guest from the very best feast!' Cydilla need not hear half that he said, For he was mad awhile. But having given rein to hot caprice, And satyr jest, and the distempered male, At length, I heard his story. At sun-down certain miles without the town He'd chanced upon a light-wheeled litter-car, And in it there stood one Yet more a woman than her garb was rich, With more of youth and health than elegance. 'The mules,' he said, 'were beauties: she was one, And cried directions to the neighbour field: 'O catch that big bough! Fool, not that, the next! Clumsy, you've let it go! O stop it swaying, The eggs will jolt out!' From the road,' said he, 'I could not see who thus was rated; so Sprang up beside her and beheld her husband, Lover or keeper, what you like to call him; - A middle-aged stout man upon whose shoulders Kneeled up a scraggy mule-boy slave, who was The fool that could not reach a thrush's nest Which they, while plucking almond, had revealed. Before she knew who it could be, I said, 'Why yes, he is a fool, but we, fair friend, Were we not foolish waiting for such fools? Let us be off!' I stooped, took, shook the reins With one hand, while the other clasped her waist. 'Ah, who?' she turned; I smiled like amorous Zeus; A certain vagueness clouded her wild eyes As though she saw a swan, a bull, a shower Of hurried flames, and felt divinely pleased. I cracked the whip and we were jolted down; A kiss was snatched getting the ribbons straight; We hardly heard them first begin to bawl, So great our expedition towards the town: We flew. I pulled up at an inn, then bid them Stable my mules and chariot and prepare A meal for Dives; meanwhile we would stroll Down to the market. Took her arm in mine, And, out of sight, hurried her through cross-lanes, Bade her choose, now at a fruit, now pastry booth. Until we gained my lodging she spoke little But often laughed, tittering from time to time, 'O Bacchus, what a prank! - Just think of Cymon, So stout as he is, at least five miles to walk Without a carriage! - well you take things coolly' - Or such appreciation nice of gifts I need not boast of, since I had them gratis, When my stiff door creaked open grudgingly Her face first fell; the room looked bare enough. Still we brought with us food and cakes; I owned A little cellar of delicious wine; An unasked neighbour's garden furnished flowers; Jests helped me nimbly, I surpassed myself; So we were friends and, having laughed, we drank, Ate, sang, danced, grew wild. Soon both had one Desire, effort, goal, One bed, one sleep, one dream . . . O Damon, Damon, both had one alarm, When woken by the door forced rudely open, Lit from the stair, bedazzled, glowered at, hated! She clung to me; her master, husband, uncle (I know not which or what he was) stood there; It crossed my mind he might have been her father. Naked, unarmed, I rose, and did assume What dignity is not derived from clothes, Bid them to quit my room, my private dwelling. It was no use, for that gross beast was rich; Had his been neither legal right nor moral, My natural right was nought, for his she was In eyes of those bribed catchpolls. Brute revenge Seethed in his pimpled face: 'To gaol with him!' He shouted huskily. I wrapped some clothes About my shuddering bed-fellow, a sheet Flung round myself; ere she was led away, Had whispered to her 'Shriek, faint on the stair!' Then I was seized by two dog officers. That girl was worth her keep, for, going down, She suddenly writhed, gasped, and had a fit. My chance occurred, and I whipped through the casement; All they could do was catch away the sheet; I dropped a dozen feet into a bush, Soon found my heels and plied them; here I am.'

Cydilla A strange tale, Damon, this to tell to me And introduce as thou at first began.

Damon Thy life, Cydilla, has at all times been A ceremony: this young man's Discovered by free impulse, not couched in forms Worn and made smooth by prudent folk long dead. I love Hipparchus for his wave-like brightness; He wastes himself, but till his flash is gone I shall be ever glad to hear him laugh: Nor could one make a Spartan of him even Were one the Spartan with a will to do it. Yet had there been no more than what is told, Thou wouldst not now be lending ear to me.

Cydilla Hearing such things, I think of my poor son, Which makes me far too sad to smile at folly.

Damon There, let me tell thee all just as it happened, And of thy son I shall be speaking soon.

Cydilla Delphis! Alas, are his companions stillNo better than such ne'er-do-wells? I thought His life was sager now, though he has killed My hopes of seeing him a councillor.

Damon How thou art quick to lay claim to a sorrow! Should I have come so eagerly to thee If all there was to tell thee were such poor news?

Cydilla Forgive me; well know I there is no end To Damon's kindness; my poor boy has proved it; Could but his father so have understood him! Damon

Let lie the sad contents of vanished years; Why with complaints reproach the helpless dead? Thy husband ne'er will cross thy hopes again. Come, think of what a sky made yesterday The worthy dream of thrice divine Apollo! Hipparchus' plan was, we should take the road (As, when such mornings tempt me, is my wont) And cross the hills, along the coast, toward Mylae. He in disguise, a younger handier Chloe, Would lead my mule; must brown his face and arms: And thereon straight to wake her he was gone. Their voices from her cabin crossed the yard; He swears those parts of her are still well made Which she keeps too well hidden when about; - And she, no little pleased, that interlards, Between her exclamations at his figure, Reproof of gallantries half-laughed at hers. Anon she titters as he dons her dress Doubtless with pantomime - Head-carriage and hip-swagger. A wench, more conscious of her sex than grace, He then rejoined me, changed beyond belief, Roguish as vintage makes them; bustling helps Or hinders Chloe harness to the mule; - In fine bewitching both her age and mine. The life that in such fellows runs to waste Is like a gust that pulls about spring trees And spoils your hope of fruit, while it delights The sense with bloom and odour scattered, mingled With salt spume savours from a crested offing. The sun was not long up when we set forth And, coming to the deeply shadowed gate, Found catchpolls lurked there, true to his surmise. Them he, his beard disguised like face-ache, sauced; (Too gaily for that bandaged cheek, thought I); But they, whose business was to think, Were quite contented, let the hussy pass, Returned her kisses blown back down the road, And crowned the mirth of their outwitter's heart. As the steep road wound clear above the town, Fewer became those little comedies To which encounteres roused him: till, at last, He scarcely knew we passed some vine-dressers: And I could see the sun's heat, lack of sleep, And his late orgy would defeat his powers. So, where the road grows level and must soon Descend, I bade him climb into the car; On which the mule went slower still and slower. This creature, who, upon occasions, shows Taste very like her master's left the highway And took a grass-grown wheel-track that led down Zigzag athwart the broad curved banks of lawn Coating a valley between rounded hills Which faced the sea abruptly in huge crags. Each slope grew steeper till I left my seat And led the mule; for now Hipparchus' snore Tuned with the crooning waves heard from below. We passed two narrow belts of wood and then The sea, that first showed blue above their tops, Was spread before us chequered with white waves Breaking beneath on boulders which choked up The narrowed issue seawards of the glen. The steep path would no more admit of wheels: I took the beast and tethered her to graze Within the shade of a stunt ilex clump, - Returned to find a vacant car; Hipparchus, Uneasy on my tilting down the shafts, And heated with strange clothes, had roused himself And lay asleep upon his late disguise, Naked 'neath the cool eaves of one huge rock That stood alone, much higher up than those Over, and through, and under which, the waves Made music or forced milk-white floods of foam. There I reclined, while vision, sound and scent Won on my willing soul like sleep on joy, Till all accustomed thoughts were far away As from a happy child the cares of men. The hour was sacred to those earlier gods Who are not active, but divinely waitThe consummation of their first great deeds, Unfolding still and blessing hours serene. Presently I was gazing on a boy, (Though whence he came my mind had not perceived). Twelve or thirteen he seemed, with clinging feet Poised on a boulder, and against the sea Set off. His wide-brimmed hat of straw was arched Over his massed black and abundant curls By orange ribbon tied beneath his chin; Around his arms and shoulders his sole dress, A cloak, was all bunched up. He leapt, and lighted Upon the boulder just beneath; there swayed, Re-poised, And perked his head like an inquisitive bird, As gravely happy; of all unconscious save His body's aptness for its then employment; His eyes intent on shells in some clear pool Or choosing where he next will plant his feet. Again he leaps, his curls against his hat Bounce up behind. The daintiest thing alive, He rocks awhile, turned from me towards the sea; Unseen I might devour him with my eyes. At last he stood upon a ledge each wave Spread with a sheet of foam four inches deep; From minute to minute, while it bathed his feet, He gazing at them saw them disappear And reappear all shining and refreshed; Then raised his head, beheld the ocean stretched Alive before him its magnitude. None but a child could have been so absorbed As to escape its spell till then, none else Could so have voiced glad wonder in a song: - 'All the waves of the sea are there! In at my eyes they crush. Till my head holds as fair a sea: Though I shut my eyes, they are there! Nay towards my lids they rush, Mad to burst forth from me Back to the open air! - To follow them my heart needs, O white-maned steeds, to ride you; Lathe-shouldered steeds, To the western isles astride youAmyntas speeds!' 'Damon!' said a voice quite close to me And looking up . . . as might have stood Apollo In one vase garment such as shepherds wear And leaning on such tall staff stood . . . Thou guessest, Whose majesty as vainly was disguised As must have been Apollo's minding sheep.

Cydilla Delphis! I know, dear Damon, it was Delphis! Healthy life in the country having chased His haggard looks; his speech is not wild now, Nor wicked with exceptions to things honest: Thy face a kindlier way than speech tells this.

Damon Yes, dear Cydilla, he was altogether What mountaineers might dream of for a king.

Cydilla But tell me, is he tutor to that boy?

Damon He is an elder brother to the lad.

Cydilla Nay, nay, hide nothing, speak the worst at once.

Damon I meant no hint of ill; A god in love with young Amyntas might Look as he did; fathers alone feel like him: Could I convey his calm and happy speech Thy last suspicion would be laid to rest.

Cydilla Damon, see, my glad tears have drowned all fear; Think'st thou he may come back and win renown, And fill his father's place? Not as his father filled it, But with an inward spirit correspondent To that contained and high imposing mien Which made his father honoured before men Of greater wisdom, more integrity.

Damon And loved before men of more kindliness!

Cydilla O Damon, far too happy am I now To grace thy naughtiness by showing pain. My Delphis 'owns the brains and presence too That makes a Pericles!' . . . (the words are thine) Had he but the will; and has he now? Good Damon, tell me quick?

Damon He dreams not of the court, and city life Is what he rails at.

Cydilla Well, if he now be wise and sober-souled And loved for goodness, I can rest content.

Damon My brain lights up to see thee happy! wait, It may be I can give some notion how Our poet spoke: 'Damon, the best of life is in thine eyes - Worship of promise-laden beauty. Seems he notThe god of this fair scene? Those waves claim such a master as that boy; And these green slopes have waited till his feet Should wander them, to prove they were not spread In wantonness. What were this flower's prayer Had it a voice? The place behind his ear Would brim its cup with bliss and overbrim; O, to be worn and fade beside his cheek!' - 'In love and happy, Delphis; and the boy?' - 'Loves and is happy' - 'You hale from?' - 'Ætna; We have been out two days and crossed this ridge, West of Mount Mycon's head. I serve his father, A farmer well-to-do and full of sense, Who owns a grass-farm cleared among the pines North-west the cone, where even at noon in summer, The slope it falls on lengthens a tree's shade. To play the lyre and write and dance I teach this lad; in all their country toil Join, nor ask better fare than cheese, black bread, Butter or curds, and milk, nor better bed Than litter of dried fern or lentisk yields, Such as they all sleep soundly on and dream, (If e'er they dream) of places where it grew, - Where they have gathered mushrooms, eaten berries, Or found the sheep they lost, or killed a fox, Or snared the kestrel, or so played their pipes Some maid showed pleasure, sighed, nay even wept. There to be poet need involve no strain, For though enough of coarseness, dung, - nay, nay, And suffering, too, be mingled with the life, 'Tis wedded to such an air, Such water and sound health! What else might jar or fret chimes in attuned Like satyr's cloven hoof or lorn nymph's grief In a choice ode. Though lust, disease and death, As everywhere, are cruel tyrants, yet They all wear flowers, and each sings a song Such as the hilly echo loves to learn.' 'At last then even Delphis knows content?' 'Damon, not so: This life has brought me health but not content. That boy, whose shouts ring round us while he flings Intent each sone toward yon shining object Afloat inshore . . . I eat my heart to think How all which makes him worthy of more loveMust train his ear to catch the siren croon That never else had reached his upland home! And he who failed in proof, how should he arm Another against perils? Ah, false hope, And credulous enjoyment! How should I, Life's fool, while wakening ready wit in him, Teach how to shun applause, and those bright eyes Of women who pour in the lap of spring Their whole year's substance? They can offer To fill the day much fuller than I could, And yet teach night surpass it. Can my means Prevent the ruin of the thing I cherish? What cares Zeus for him? Fate despises love. Why, lads more exquisite, brimming with promise, A thousand times have been lost for the lack Of just the help a watchful god might give; But which the best of fathers, best of mothers, Of friends, of lovers cannot quite supply. Powers, who swathe man's virtue up in weakness, Then plunge his delicate mind in hot desire, Preparing pleasure first and after shame To bandage round his eyes, - these gods are notThe friends of men.' The Delphis of old days before me stood, Passionate, stormy, teeming with black thought, His back turned on that sparkling summer sea, His back turned on his love; and wilder words And less coherent thought poured from him now. Hipparchus waking took stock of the scene. I watched him wend down, rubbing sleepy lids, To where the boy was busy throwing stones. He joined the work, but even his stronger arm And heavier flints he hurled would not suffice To drive that floating object nearer shore: And, ere the rebel Delphis had expressed Enough of anger and contempt for gods, (Who, he asserted, were the dreams of men), I saw the stone-throwers both take the water And swimming easily attain their end. The way they held their noses proved the thing A tunny, belly floating upward, dead; Both towed it till the current caught and swept it Out far from that sweet cove; they laughing watched: Then, suddenly, Amyntas screamed and Delphis Turned to see him sink Locked in Hipparchus' arms. The god Apollo never Burst through a cloud with more ease than thy son Poured from his homespun garb The rapid glory of his naked limbs, And like a streak of lightning reached the waves: - Wherein his thwarted speed appeared more awful As, brought within the scope of comprehension, Its progress and its purpose could be gauged. Spluttering Amyntas rose, Hipparchus near him Who cried 'Why coy of kisses, lovely lad? I ne'er would harm thee; art thou not ashamed To treat thy conquest thus?' He shouted partly to drown the sea's noise, chiefly The nearing Dephis to disarm. His voice lost its asurance while he spoke, And, as he finished, quick to escape he turned; Thy son's eyes and that steady coming on, As he might see them over ruffled crests, Far better helped him swim Than ever in his life he swam before. Delphis passed by Amyntas; Hipparchus was o'er taken, Cuffed, ducked and shaken; In vain he clung about his angry foe; Held under he perforce let go: I, fearing for his life, set up a whoop To bring cause and effect to thy son's mind, And in dire rage's room his sense returned. He towed Hipparchus back like one he'd saved From drowning, laid him out upon that ledge Where late Amyntas stood, where now he kneeled Shivering, alarmed and mute. Delphis next set the drowned man's mouth to drain; We worked his arms, for I had joined them; soon His breathing recommenced; we laid him higher On sun-warmed turf to come back to himself; Then we climbed to the cart without a word. The sun had dried their limbs; they, putting on Their clothes, sat down; at length, I asked the lad What made him keen to pelt a stinking fish. Blushing, he said, 'I wondered what it was. But that man, when he came to help, declared 'Twould prove a dead sea-nymph, and we might see, By swimming out, how finely she was made. I did not half believe, yet when we found That foul stale fish, it made us laugh.' He smiled And watched Hipparchus spit and cough and groan. I moved to the car and unpacked bread and meat, A cheese, some fruit, a skin of wine, two bowls. Amyntas was all joy to see such things; Ran off and pulled acanthus for our plates; Chattering, he helped me set all forth, - was keen To choose rock basin where the wine might cool; Approved, was full as happy as I to praise: And most he pleased me, when he set a place For poor Hipparchus. Thus our eager work, While Delphis, in his thoughts retired, sat frowning, Grew like a home-conspiracy to trap The one who bears the brunt of outside cares Into the glow of cheerfulness that bathes The children and the mother, - happy notTo forsee winter, short-commons or long debts, Since they are busied for the present meal, - Too young, too weak, too kind, to peer ahead, Or probe the dark horizon bleak with storms. Oh! I have sometimes thought there is a god Who helps with lucky accidents when folk Join with the little ones to chase such gloom. That chance withch left Hipparchus with no clothers, Surely divinity was ambushed in it? When he must put on Chloe's, Amyntas rocked With laughter, and Hipparchus, quick to use A favourable gust, pretends confusion Such as a farmer's daughter red-faced shows If in the dance her dress has come unpinned. She suddenly grow grave; yet, seeing thereFriends only, stoops behind a sister-skirt. Then, having set to rights the small mishap, Holding her screener's elbows, round her shoulder Peeps, to bob back meeting a young man's eye. All, grateful for such laughs, give Hermes thanks. And even Delphis at Hipparchus smiled When, from behind me, he peeped bashful forth; Laughing because he was or was not like Some wench . . . Why, Delphis, in the name of Zeus How come you here?

Cydilla What can have happened, Delphis? Be brief for pity!

Delphis Nothing, mother, nothing That has not happened time on time before To thee, to Damon, when the life ye thought With pride and pleasure yours, has proved a dream. They strike down on us from the top of heaven, Bear us up in their talons, up and up, Drop us: we fall, are crippled, maimed for life. 'Our dreams'? nay, we are theirs for sport, for prey, And life is the King Eagle, The strongest, highest, flyer, from whose clutch The fall is fatal always.

Cydilla Delphis, Delphis, Good Damon had been making me so happy By telling . . .

Delphis How he watched me near the zenith? Three years back That dream pounced on me and began to soar; Having been sick, my heart had found new lies; The only thoughts I then had ears for were Healthy, virtuous, sweet; Jaded town-wastrel, A counry setting was the sole could take me Three hears back. Damon might have guessed From such a dizzy height What fall was coming.

Delphis Would he were dead! Would that I had been brute enough to slay him. - Great Zeus, Hipparchus had so turned his head. His every smile and word As we sat by our fire, stung my fool's heart. - 'How we laughed to see him curtsey, Fidget strings about his waist, - Giggle, his beard caught in the chlamys' hem Drawing it tight about his neck, just like Our Baucis.' Could not sleep For thinking of the life they lead in towns; He said so: when, at last, He sighed from dreamland, thoughts I had been day-long brooding Broke into vision.

A child, a girl, Beautiful, nay more than others beautiful, Not meant for marriage, not for one man meant, You know what she will be; At six years old or seven her life is round her; A company, all ages, old men, young men, Whose vices she must prey on. And the bent crone she will be is there too, Patting her head and chuckling prophecies. - O cherry lips, O wild bird eyes, O gay invulnerable setter-at-nought Of will, of virtue - Thou art as constant a cause as is the sea, As is the sun, as are the winds, as night, Of opportunities not only but events; - The unalterable past Is full of thy contrivance, Aphrodite, Goddess of ruin!

No girl; nay, nay, Amyntas is young, Is gay, Has beauty and health - and yet In his sleep I have seen him smile And known that his dream was vile; Those eyes which brimmed over with glee Till my life flowed as fresh as the sea - Those eyes, gloved each in a warm live lid, May be glad that their visions are hid.

I taught myself to rhyme; the trick will cling. Ah, Damon, day-lit vision is more dread Than those which suddenly replace the dark! When the dawn filtered through our tent of boughs I saw him closely wrapped in his grey cloak, His head upon a pile of caked thin leaves Whose life had dried up full two years ago. Their flakes shook in the breath from those moist lips; The vow his kiss would seal must prove, I knew As friable as that pale ashen fritter; It had more body than reason dare expect From that so beautiful creature's best intent. He waking found me no more there; and wanders Through Ætna's woods to-day Calling at times, or questioning charcoal burners, Till he shall strike a road shall lead him home; Yet all his life must be spent as he spends This day in whistling, wondering, singing, chatting, In the great wood, vacant and amiable.

Damon Can it be possible that thou desertest Thy love, thy ward, the work of three long years, Because chance, on an April holiday Has filled this boy's talk with another man, And wonder at another way of life? Worse than a woman's is such jealousy; The lad must live!

Delphis Live, live, to be sure, he must live! I have lived, am a fool for my pains! And yet, and yet, This heart has ached to play the god for him: - Mine eyes for his had sifted visible things; Speech had been filtered ere it reached his ear; Not in the world should he have lived, but breathed Humanity's distilled quintessences; The indiscriminate multitude sorted should yield him Acquaintance and friend discerned, chosen by me: - By me, who failed, wrecked, my youth's prime, and dragged More wonderful than his gifts in the mire!

Damon Yet if experience could not teach and save Others from ignorance, why, towns would be Ruins, and civil men like outlaws thieve, Stab, riot, ere two generations passed.

Delphis Where is the Athens that Pericles loved? Where are the youths that were Socrates' friends? There was a town where all learnt What the wisest taught! Why had crude Sparta such treasonous force? Could Philip of Macedon Breed a true Greek of his son? What honour to conquer a world Where Alcibiades had failed, Lead half-drilled highland hordes Whose lust would inherit the wise? There is nothing art's industry shaped But their idleness praising it mocked. Thus Fate re-assumed her command And laughed at experienced law. What ails man to love with such pains? Why toil to create in the mind Of those who shall close in his grave The best that he is and has hoped? The longer permission he has, The nobler the structure so raised, The greater its downfall. Fools, fools, Where is a town such as Pericles ruled? Where youths to replace those whom Socrates loved?

Wise Damon, thou art silent; - Mother, thou Hast only arms to cling about they son. - Who can descry the purpose of a god With eyes wide-open? shut them, every fool Can conjure up a world arriving somewhere, Resulting in what he may call perfection. Evil must soon or late succeed to good. There well may once have been a golden age: Why should we treat it as a poet's tale? Yet, in those hills that hung o'er Arcady, Some roving inebriate Daimon Begat him fair children On nymphs of the vineyard, On nymphs of the rock: - And in the heart of the forest Lay bound in white arms, In action creative a father Without a thought for his child: - A purposeless god, The forbear of men To corrupt, ape, inherit and spoil That fine race before hand with doom!

No, Damon, what's an answer worth to one Whose mind has been flung open? Only last night, The gates of my spirit gave entrace Unto the great light; And I saw how virtue seduceth, Not ended today or tomorrow Like the passion for love, Like the passion for life - But perennial pain And age-long effort. Dead deeds are the teeth that shine In the mouth that repeateth praise, That spurs men to do high things Since their fathers did higher before - To give more than they hope to receive, To slave and to die in a secular cause! The mouth that smiles over-praise Eats out the heart of each fool To feed the great dream of a race.

Yet wearied peoples each in turn awake From virtue, as a man from his brief love, And, roughtly shaken, face the useless truth; No answer to brute fact has e'er been found. Slaves of your slaves, caged in your furnished rooms, Ushered to meals when reft of appetite - Though hungry, bound to wait a stated hour - Your dearest contemplation broken off By the appointed summons to your bath; Racked with more thought for those whom you may flog Than for those dear; obsessed by your possessions With a dull round of stale anxieties; - Soon maintenance grows the extreme reach of hope For those held in respect, as in a vice, By citizens of whom they are the pick. Of men the least bond is the roving seaman Who hires himself to merchantman or pirate For single voyages, stays where he may please, Lives his purse empty in a dozen ports, And ne'er obeys the ghost of what once was! His laugh chimes readily; his kiss, no symbol Of aught to come, but cordial, eager, hot, Leaves his tomorrow free. With him for comrade Each day shall be enough, and what is good Enjoyed, and what is evil borne or cursed. I go, because I will not have a friend Lay claim upon my leisure this day week. I will be melted by each smile that takes me; What though a hundred lips should meet with mine! A vagabond I shall be as the moon is. The sun, the waves, the winds, all birds, all beasts, Are ever on the move, and take what comes; They are not parasites like plants and men Rooted in that which fed them yesterday. Not even Memory shall follow Delphis, For I will yield to all impulse save hers, Therein alone subject to prescient rigour; Lest she should lure me back among the dying - Pilfer the present for the beggar past. Free minds must bargain with each greedy moment And seize the most that lies to hand at once. Ye are too old to understand my words; I yet have youth enough, and can escape From that which sucks each individual man Into the common dream.

Cydilla Stay, Delphis, hear what Damon has to say! He is mad!

Damon Mad - yes - mad as cruelty! . . . . . . Poor, poor Cydilla! was it then to thisThat all my tale was prologue? Think of Amyntas, think of that poor boy, Bereaved as we are both bereaved! Come, come, Find him, and say that Love himself has sent us To offer our poor service in his stead.

Cydilla Good Damon, help me find my wool; my eyes Are blind with tears; then I will come at once! We must be doing something, for I feel We both shall drown our hearts with time to spare.

Love Sic And Confusion

the harder you think you will seethe more confused your head will bethe pain of loss is to much for mefor all i needed was for you to come back to mefor sympathy is not what i need as your love was everything to mebut if your love is not for methen please tell meand not till then i will try and see that doing myself in is not for me

I Love You (Wedding Vows)

I do not love you for who you arebut for what you make me, for how you bring the days to meaning, touch me with loveand that you look past my mistakesthat I look wonderful in your eyesand that youand that youlove me and here I bring you honour.

I do not love you for who you areand take you Daleento a eternal unionas the only oneand I promise to trust you, whatever the future holdsand I promiseand I promisethat my love will not abate.

I do not love you for who you areand whatever comesin every joy and hindranceI do declare before Himthat I will stay with you always, that continually I will love you morethat I will, that I willtry to lead you to Jesus Christ.

You Wont Be There

(lead vocal - dave townsend)Show me a promised land and I will go anywhereAnd if you ask me to take my time Ill wait for yearsIll hold on though the whole world tells me Im wrongSomeday, somedayBut it seems so longAsk me to prove my love and I will do anythingSo if they turn off the light of the sun why should I careIll hold on thought the whole world tells me Im wrongThen in the morning as you leave meYou touch my hand to show how much you careBut just when I need youYou wont be thereIll hold on but I need a shoulder to lean onWhy if you love me must you leave meWhy are you going anywhereWhy must our love be something in the airCause just when I need youYou wont be thereYou wont be there

I`m Not Prince Charming And Will Never Be...

II saw Cinderella in the marketplaceHer clothes ragged and one of her shoes without a laceTiny drops of sweat ran across her beautiful faceWearing an expected grimace.

As I were approaching to help her lift her baggageThere came from nowhere her stepsistersMy temper rose to it`s peak when suddenly I sawCinderella is now picking the items she bought a while ago.

Those wicked women I want to tortureAnd imprison them in hell foreverCinderella, I want to help her be freeBut I`m not Prince Charming and will never be.

III saw Snow White eating an apple from the wicked witchShe fell down on earth while the laughter grewI saw Snow White put in a coffin by the seven dwarfsTears ran across their face mourning about her death.

I want to cast those tears away from their eyesAnd want to tell them lift the cover of the coffinSo that I can kiss her and to the spell let her be freeBut I`m not Prince Charming and will never be.